Stray
by Rapunzel4
Summary: While heading north on his way to Hogwarts, Sirius learns the dangers of traveling in his Animagus form.


Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books, and all the characters within, were created by J.K. Rowling and belong to her. Warnings: Some spoilers for book 3 Author's ramblings: Alright, I always swore that I wouldn't go into the Harry Potter fandom. Okay, I didn't really swear, it was just something I decided. Not that there's anything wrong with the fandom (at least, no more than is wrong with other fandoms), but I don't really want to transition right now. Still, this idea occurred to me, and I was tempted to write it. Then I forgot about it. Then I was watching "Wolf's Rain", and it came back to me, so I'm going to take a stab at it. I blame it on the influence of the flu.  
  
Key: When I refer to Sirius as "Sirius", he is in human form. When I refer to him as "Padfoot", he is in dog form.  
  
Stray  
By Rapunzel  
  
Something was making his head fuzzy. That was the first thing Padfoot was aware of when he woke up. The next was that whatever he was lying on was cold and uncomfortable. However, that was nothing out of the ordinary. Since breaking out of Azkaban and making his way north, many of his nightly sleeping places had been less than stellar. He picked them more on the basis of safety than comfort.  
  
There was a loud noise that sounded like a door slamming some distance off, and it finally convinced Padfoot that maybe he should open his eyes. He did, and after much bleary blinking, he was able to take in his surroundings. When he did, he thought for a moment that his heart would stop. For one terrifying moment, he thought he was back in Azkaban.  
  
/They caught me!/ he thought, nearly panicking. /How'm I going to get to Hogwarts now?!/  
  
After a moment, enough awareness and sense returned, and he realized that this place wasn't Azkaban. It wasn't quite gloomy enough, and that feeling of cold, Dementor-induced despair was noticeably absent. Still, it was definitely a prison. High walls surrounded him on three sides. The fourth was blocked off by a sturdy fence.  
  
/Where the hell am I?/ he thought, sniffing cautiously around his enclosure.  
  
Suddenly, his ears pricked up. There was background noise that he had been tuning out, but now that he listened to it, he realized what it was. The place echoed with the barking of dogs. Looking around his enclosure again, this time noticing the dishes of food and water and the small chew toy that had been left for him, he pieced together his location.  
  
/Great,/ he thought, /just great. The bloody Muggles sent me to the pound./  
  
He had heard about places like this before from Muggleborn classmates who had wondered what the wizarding world equivalent was. Still, when he had set out on his journey in dog form, he had never dreamed that he would end up in one.  
  
/Just how _did_ I end up in here?/ he wondered.  
  
Casting his mind back, he tried to answer that very question. The fuzziness that had dominated his head earlier was still there, but it was fading, and he was able to recall his movements prior to his sudden imprisonment.  
  
He had gone to find Harry; that much he remembered very clearly. He had been wandering around the Muggle neighborhood, looking for the house where Lily's sister and her husband lived, trying to find Harry. And he had found the boy, sitting out on the sidewalk with his trunks and what looked like all his school gear. Padfoot had wondered about that; what was the boy doing out so late, and what did he need with all that stuff? Still, he had got his glimpse, and had fled just as the Knight Bus arrived. The boy seemed well enough, which was good. That meant he could move on to more important things...  
  
Then, as he'd been leaving the residential neighborhood, he'd seen them. Men, with nets, all apparently intent on subduing him. He'd panicked, thinking that the Ministry had finally gotten wind of his Animagus abilities, and had bitten several of them before he had felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. After that, everything had gone black.  
  
And now, here he was. What was he supposed to do now?  
  
Padfoot was just contemplating changing back into his human form (after all, opposable thumbs were damned useful things), when he heard the sound of voices. Quickly, he rejected the idea. Not only would it look odd for a human to be sitting in a kennel that had formerly contained a dog, but he also had a nagging suspicion that the Muggles knew about him. When he had first dared to show his human form, a lot of people who shouldn't have recognized him seemed like they had. It was just too risky.  
  
Then the people who were talking came close enough for him to distinguish the words.  
  
"...really not sure," a female voice was saying. "Mixed breeding, I'd say. Something in there to give him size; he's enormous."  
  
"You're sure he's not a purebred, then?" a male voice asked.  
  
"Positive," the woman replied. The two speakers were walking towards him, he could hear their footsteps. Then, they came into sight, and stopped just in front of his cage. "I mean, look at him," the woman continued, gesturing at Padfoot. "Does he look like any breed you know of?"  
  
"He looks like every stray I've ever seen in my life," the man said, cautiously inspecting Padfoot. Padfoot stared back at him in a disinterested way. "But I just wanted to make sure he wasn't valuable before I had him put down."  
  
_That_ got Padfoot's attention. /Put down?!/ he thought frantically. /They're going to kill me?!/  
  
Frowning, the woman spoke up. "So soon?" she asked.  
  
"Why not?" he answered her. "He's just some stray we've picked up. He doesn't have any tags, and he's dangerous to boot. He's probably a feral dog that was never socialized."  
  
"I don't know," she said, looking hard at Padfoot. "He seems to be used to humans. I'd say he was probably someone's pet once."  
  
Padfoot wagged his tail, trying hard to confirm her statement. Maybe if they thought he belonged to someone, they would hold off on killing him.  
  
But the man didn't agree. "He can't be someone's pet; look at the state he's in. He's thin and he probably has mange. It doesn't look like he's been fed in weeks."  
  
/You have no idea how right you are on that last one,/ Padfoot thought. Still, he was mildly insulted. Couldn't these people see that he most definitely did _not_ have mange?  
  
"Maybe he was abandoned," the woman suggested. "But I think you're wrong about him not being socialized. He seems friendly enough."  
  
Padfoot wagged his tail even harder. /Yes, yes, I'm very friendly. Please don't kill me./  
  
"He attacked three people before we managed to tranquilize him and bring him in here," the man reminded his companion sternly.  
  
"He was probably frightened," she said dismissively.  
  
"I don't know why you're so intent on keeping the mangy brute," the man muttered.  
  
Padfoot growled, but cut the noise off abruptly as the two people turned to stare at him. He realized that he probably wasn't doing his "Let's not kill the friendly stray" act any good, and so he tried to change the noise into a bark at the last minute.  
  
The woman turned to him, smiling brightly, and in a tone completely different from the one she'd been using with her colleague, she addressed him. "You're a good doggy, aren't you? Yes, you are!"  
  
Padfoot winced internally; he had never been a great fan of baby talk, especially when it was directed at him. Still, he didn't allow his tail to cease its motion, and he watched the woman intently, realizing that she was probably his only hope of survival.  
  
"Yes, you're a good boy!" she cooed. "Now, sit!"  
  
Padfoot stared at her. She had to be kidding. Who did she think she was, ordering him around like that?  
  
"Sit, boy!" she repeated, more firmly this time.  
  
"It's pointless," the man said. "He doesn't know what you're saying."  
  
Dismally, Padfoot realized that this was simply a test to see if he really had been someone's pet. He didn't want to think what would happen to him if he failed it.  
  
"He's probably never had obedience lessons before," the woman said. Turning back to Padfoot, she commanded again, "Now, sit!"  
  
/This has got to be the most humiliating experience ever,/ Padfoot thought ruefully. Grudgingly, he sat. /At least no one I know is here to see this; I'd never live it down./  
  
"Good boy!" the woman said, and then turned to the man with a triumphant smile on her face.  
  
"Fine, fine," the man muttered irritably. "I'll admit that he isn't feral. We'll monitor him, and if he behaves well, maybe we'll put him up for adoption. Are you happy?"  
  
The woman beamed, but didn't answer.  
  
"All right," the man was muttering to himself. "We'll have to make up a card for him, have the vet look at him... Say, has he been fixed?"  
  
Padfoot's ears pricked up at the question. This wasn't sounding good...  
  
"I don't believe so," the woman answered.  
  
"Well, the vet will be in tomorrow. We can get him neutered then."  
  
/Neutered?!/ Padfoot thought, ready to panic in earnest. /Waitaminute! Doesn't that mean they're going to cut off my... my.../  
  
Abruptly, he slumped over onto the floor.  
  
The two standing outside the enclosure ceased their conversation to stare at him. "What's the matter with him?" the man demanded.  
  
His companion stared through the fence at the black dog within. "I think he fainted."  
  
~*~*~  
  
When Padfoot woke again, he was happy to find that he was alone. Having company would have been bad for an escape attempt, and he needed to try as soon as possible. A new mantra was running nonstop in his head. /Gotta get outta here! Gotta get outta here!/ Just the thought of what they were planning to do to him was making him squirm. If he'd been in his human form, he'd have been crossing his legs. As it was, it was all he could do not to cringe every time he remembered what the man had said.  
  
/I never planned on having children, but that doesn't mean I can let them do _that_ to me!/  
  
Looking around hastily to make sure he was alone, he quickly changed forms and reached up for the latch on the gate, only to discover, much to his dismay, that it was chained and padlocked shut.  
  
/Bloody hell!/ he thought desperately. /What am I supposed to do now?! Oh, what I wouldn't give for a wand.../  
  
Of course, he didn't have a wand. They had taken his when they'd arrested him, and had probably broken it. There was no possibility of escape using the Alohomora charm. He remembered mention of a Muggle way to make locks open, but he'd never had reason to learn it. He wondered if James had.  
  
Just the thought of his old friend made him feel very lonely. James would have found this whole situation very funny, he was sure. He'd have laughed his ass off. Well, that wasn't quite right; he'd have helped Sirius get out of danger first, and then laughed his ass off.  
  
Sirius' face set in a grim scowl. Thinking of James also reminded him of why it was so important to escape. He had to get to Hogwarts to make sure Harry was all right... and to get his revenge. Peter Pettigrew would never even know what had hit him.  
  
Looking around his enclosure, Sirius desperately searched for a way to get out. At last, he found one. The gate that blocked off his exit didn't quite reach the ceiling, and he was fairly sure that if he could just get to the top, he could swing over it and escape.  
  
Leaping up, Sirius caught at the fence and hung there, suspended for a few moments while he scrambled with his feet, trying to find a foothold. Eventually he did. Climbing the fence was slow work; his feet were too large to fit well in the openings, but eventually he reached the top. Swinging himself over the top, he dropped to the floor outside the enclosure. The landing hurt his feet, but it was a small price to pay. He was free!  
  
Almost as soon as he thought that, he heard a door open somewhere and voices. One of them he recognized as the woman from before. Creeping along the row of kennels, carefully, so as not to disturb their inhabitants, he peered around the edge of one row and saw the woman with a different man in tow. This one had on a white coat, and Sirius realized with a jolt that this must be the veterinarian that the two people had spoken of earlier.  
  
"...not sure what to name him," the woman was saying. "Fluffy, maybe? But his fur's not really long enough for that. Fifi? Rex? Snuffles? What do you think?" she asked the man.  
  
"Why, Ms. Caddin, I don't know what to think. I haven't even seen the animal yet," the man replied.  
  
Sirius mentally noted the name mentioned, even as he slipped behind them and headed quietly out the way they had come in. He had no doubt that they were talking about him, and soon, they would discover his absence. He had no intentions of being caught again, especially not now that he realized just how close he had come to losing a precious portion of his anatomy forever. Nope, definitely _never_ getting caught again.  
  
He heard the alarm raised as he was leaving the building, but paid it no mind. He had avoided being seen up to that point, and he was almost free. Once he was clear of the building, he hastily changed back into his Animagus form to prevent anyone recognizing him, and headed off into the city. Celebrating his freedom with joyous leaps and bounds, Padfoot headed off north towards Hogwarts.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Mary Caddin carefully made sure the fence was locked behind her before she left her latest charge, a small black Labrador puppy, alone in his enclosure. Wearily, she headed back towards the main office. She loved dogs, but they could be very tiring, especially the younger ones. Still, at least she could give them some attention. It made her sad to think about the poor creatures being all alone, lost and abandoned.  
  
That thought made her remember the large, black dog that had been there several months before. He had vanished without a trace, less than twenty- four hours after they'd brought him in. They never had managed to find him again, and she could only hope that he hadn't starved to death.  
  
A voice suddenly said, "Ms. Caddin?"  
  
With a start, she jerked and looked up. "I'm Ms. Caddin," she said.  
  
A delivery man was standing in front of her, looking alternately at her, and at a little addressed card that he held in one hand. In his other hand was a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you, Miss," he said, handing them to her.  
  
She thanked him and took the bouquet and the card. Opening it, she glanced at it, then frowned and looked at it again. Then she shrugged her shoulders, put the card and bouquet down on a nearby table, and headed back into the area where the dogs were kept.  
  
Behind her on the table, the card lay open. There was no sender's name or a return address. All that was in it were the words, "Thank you for not killing me." and underneath that, a large, black paw print.  
  
End 


End file.
